


Face Straight Outta Magazine

by medelrey



Series: Kingdom [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dany is like Anna Wintour, F/M, Fluff, Kingdom is like Vogue, Robb is a football star, The Spring Gala is the Met Gala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 11:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7435152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medelrey/pseuds/medelrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon is a professional photographer and Sansa is his favorite subject.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Face Straight Outta Magazine

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: Fic Prompt! :) Jon X Sansa. The 1975. "With a face from a movie scene or magazine... You know what I mean.."

It’s nice being a photographer. There are no rules to it, which Jon likes. He prefers the freedom that comes with being able to photograph anything in front him, especially when his subject is Sansa Stark. She was made for film, Jon thinks, with the way her red hair gleams brightly in photos and the way her blue eyes capture every emotion all in one.

There’s only one problem; he can’t publish her photos the way he’d like. Robb would kill him if he knew Sansa was his muse and his favorite thing to photograph. As Robb’s best friend, maybe he shouldn’t have started photographing his friend’s baby sister. But he couldn’t help it; she was just too enthralling not to.

She’s his favorite subject by far, and this time she’s posed in his tattered Night’s Watch band t-shirt, complete with holes all over and the rest of her covered only in black lace underwear. She’s stunning, lying back on crisp white sheets and a thick down duvet with his pillows fluffed around her head.

“Lie on your back,” Jon says, positioning her one knee toward the ceiling and pushing the t-shirt up to expose her hip bones.

Sansa’s not shy, especially not around Jon who’s been inside her more times than she can count.

“How do you want my hands?”

“Put one by the hem of the shirt and the other above your head.”

Sansa smiles as she tiptoes her fingers across her abdomen, fingering the flimsy cotton against her hand. “Yeah, Sans, just like that. You look gorgeous. Don’t move.“

Jon climbs onto the bed, careful not to disturb the perfectly placed blankets. He stands over her, focusing the camera and biting his lip in concentration. "Can you mess your hair up a little?”

Sansa sighs, reaching up to fluff her red hair so it splays across the pillows underneath her. Jon thinks she looks like she’s bathed in a beautiful red halo. She surprises him when she inches her t-shirt up, past her navel. “How’s this?”

“Perfect,” he replies, and he means it. Jon snaps a few more shots, one of just her hands across her stomach, of her legs, of her. “How daring are you feeling?"

"Try me.”

“I want to do some photos of your back. Without the shirt, of course."

Sansa smirks, sitting up and tossing the t-shirt from her body. She’s totally unashamed of her nudity; she knows how much Jon loves it and how natural it is.

"On your stomach, then,” he says, clearing his throat and swallowing hard. He debates whether to forego the rest of the impromptu photoshoot and fuck her senseless but he decides the lighting in the room is too good to waste.

He positions himself on the back of her thighs, careful to keep himself out of the shot. “Can you angle your hips up a little?” He runs his hands up her thighs, across her ass until he reaches her back. Gods, he could stare at her all day - he’s sure that she’s a goddess, created by hand from whatever existed beyond this world.

“I’d put you on the cover of _Kingdom_ ,” he says softly.

“What, next to Margarery Tyrell and Myrcella Baratheon? I don’t think so."

Jon tosses Sansa’s hair over one of her shoulders. "Number one, Margaery was a pain in the ass to shoot. Not to mention her wedding spread we had to do. Number two, Myrcella is pretty but neither one of them compare to you."

Sansa sighs as she hears his camera click. "You can’t be serious, Jon. I’m not made for all that. I’m just a girl at uni."

"I am,” he says, “You’re not just a girl. You’re perfect.” Jon climbs off her, stepping to the side of the bed. “Keep laying on your stomach but turn to look at me. Place your hand under your cheek.” He captures a beautiful shot of her smirking at him, her eyes full of mischief.

“When’s your first class?"

Sansa glances at the clock on his nightstand. "Mmm, about an hour. Have any more poses for me?"

Jon pauses for a minute, taking a second to kiss her forehead. He notices the new morning sun streaming through his window and he’s struck with an idea.

"Lay on your back again. Cover up with the sheet, if you want."

"And if I don’t?” She teases, turning over.

“Then by all means, please don’t. Raise your hand about a foot; like you’re catching the sun.” Sansa looks at him confused but then she notices the rays of light coming through the room.

She grins as she follows his directions, taking initiative and crossing her ankles, settling her feet into the duvet. Jon fans her hair across the pillows once again. “Just like that, Sans. Don’t move. Fucking perfect.”

And she is; all beauty, like a goddess incarnate as her red hair contrasts sharply with the bright white sheets. The sun streams over her body and manifests like a star in her hand. The small stained glass windchime in the window she gave Jon years ago throws hues of red and blue over her breasts and across her stomach. “Gods, you do belong in a gallery,” Jon mumbles, transfixed on the way Sansa commands the camera.

“Hush,” Sansa blushes, looking at him with rare shy eyes. She lets him take a few more shots before she turns on her side, pulling the sheets up around her chest. “Jon, don’t you think it’s time we told Robb?"

"What, that I occasionally photograph you nude?”

Sansa rolls her eyes. “Don’t be absurd. But it’s been almost a year now. It’s getting harder to keep it a secret. He’s started to notice things, I think."

Jon nods, setting his camera down on the nightstand.

"I really don’t think he’ll be so mad, honestly,” she continues. “He’ll be shocked, but he won’t hate you."

"I don’t know, Sans. You really think he wouldn’t be angry?”

She smiles, taking Jon’s hand. “Are you afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?"

"That’s a terrible nickname his teammates have given him."

"Don’t change the subject.”

Jon groans, leaning forward and kissing her hard, threading his fingers through her hair. “If you think we should tell him, then we will. Besides, there was something I wanted to talk to you about…”

“What?” Sansa asks, sitting up quickly. “Is it bad?”

“No, no!” Jon says quickly, smoothing his hand over Sansa’s hair. “But I submitted some shots of you to Daenerys, you know, our editor-in-chief. She loved them. She wants them in the next issue.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I know I should’ve told you earlier but I just couldn’t help it. She wanted something that focused on masquerades for the upcoming holiday and we had those from a few weeks ago…”

“I’m not mad. But you’re serious - Daenerys Targaryen, editor of _Kingdom_ wants me in her spread?"

"Yes,” Jon smiles, “And she wants you to come to the Spring Gala next month. I know it’s a lot, and Robb will be there with his football mates, but I’d really like it if you’d be my date."

Sansa squeals like the young girl she is; throwing her arms around Jon’s neck and kissing his cheek. "I love you, I love you, I love you,” she says.

Jon grins and cradles her face in his hands. “I told you you were made for film.” He glances back at his clock. “You have thirty minutes before you leave. What should we do?”

Sansa laughs, pulling his body to cover hers. She kisses all over his face, tugging on his hair as she wraps her legs around his hips. “I can think of several things.”

Jon presses wet kisses to her neck as his hands caress her breasts. “Let’s see how many times I can make you come,” he mumbles, licking a stripe up her skin. “And see if you make it to class."

Sansa moans, pushing her hips up and running her nails across his back. "Uni will be there tomorrow…”

Jon smirks as he kisses back to her lips, knowing full well Sansa won’t leave his bed today.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist; combining my two favorite things in the whole world.


End file.
